


Covetous

by managerie



Series: RINCH [16]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Consent Issues, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Possessive!Reese, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, rinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/managerie/pseuds/managerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finch is put on the spot, but Reese is the one who's sweating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honey Pot

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Blue_Finch, but If you see a typo or a comma mistake please let me know.
> 
> Thanks

 

 

~*~

Shaw did not so much as get their Number to turn his head even though she was showing off her legs and cleavage to stunning effect. The operatives were discussing the idea of asking Zoe to try when they noticed their Number, Mr. Gibson began a conversation with an obvious Rent Boy. The two seemed to be on friendly terms and parted ways with a hug and a kiss.

Mr. Reese donned his usual smirk when he turned to Shaw, “I guess your charms didn’t catch his eye. Maybe I can persuade our Number to forgo his protection detail.” John checked his hair in the bar mirror and released another button of his shirt. The saunter he used to casually maneuver into Joseph Gibson’s eyeline could be called both smug and predatorial.

Shaw was not only slightly aroused but also impressed. She had never seen Reese try to be alluring or deliberately attractive. Most times, John concentrated on blending into the scenery and rarely acknowledged his effect on women. The few times a woman would hit on him was a surprise for the man.

Now, Reese was vividly aware of his assets. John was completely in control of his body right down to the best way to flaunt his genetic advantage of a pretty face, smoky voice, piercing eyes and tight, muscular body. Reese was confident that if anyone in this extravagant club for the rich and bored were attracted to men they would be looking John’s way right about now.

He was pulling out all the stops. Every trick he learned, every compliment he had received and all his training from Kara would ensure that not only would the Number notice him, but Mr.Gibson would be compelled to catch John’s eye in return. Everything was going as planned. Mr. Gibson saw Reese and his eyebrows raised in obvious appreciation.

 _Finally_ , Reese thought. It had been days trying to get close to their Number. Gibson was a wealthy, secretive man who ruled a financial empire of investment firms like a dictator. The man had so many enemies that he was flanked by two well trained guards at all times, day and night. Not only could none of the team get close enough to clone his phone, but they ran the risk of being spotted by the hired guns. When Gibson took a night off to this ritzy establishment that catered to the rich and horny, the agents figured Shaw could get in close by virtue of her virtues. It seemed that perhaps Gibson’s tastes ran to the tall and masculine. This was fine with Reese. He could work with this.

John smiled at Gibson and started to make his way over when the man himself stood and crossed the room. Reese was about to pat himself on the back for being irresistible when Gibson stormed passed. John turned to see who was making their Number drool and pant like a cartoon wolf.

Reese’s blood ran cold and all flirtatious elements vanished as he took in the obvious interest of Mr. Gibson to the new arrival. The man standing just behind Reese was none other than John’s partner, Harold Finch. Gibson was shaking hands with Finch and practically undressing Harold with lecherous eyes. All thoughts of helping Gibson dissipated  as Reese tried his damndest to push aside the armed guards and get to Harold. Before Reese could start a scene, his earpiece broadcast Shaw’s voice, “This could be good. Finch is obviously moneyed too. We can be Harold’s own guards. This could work.”

John’s throat was tight with anxiety and stress. He had to get between Gibson and Finch. Shaw’s message barely registered. As soon as Reese had an arm around Finch, John’s chest eased its clench. Before Reese could get his voice to bark at Gibson to back the fuck off, Shaw smoothly situated herself on the other side of Harold. She smiled at Gibson then turned to Finch. “Everything seems to be in order here Mr. Burd. I am not sure if this is your kind of night out but the club seems secured.”

Harold blinked in startled confusion then looked at Gibson. “Thank you, Ms. Shaw. Yes, I am not accustomed to such frivolous revelry but man can’t live on Proust alone.”

Gibson threw his head back and guffawed loudly. John’s jaw clenched and his hands bunched into fists. Once again Shaw was the one to speak. “Mr. Harold Burd I would like you to meet Mr. Joseph Gibson of Gibson Financial and his guards, Thompson,” she gestured to the tallest guard, “and Franklin.” Franklin’s head was shaved smooth and his complexion was of dark coffee.

Gibson caressed Harold’s hand that was still being held long after the handshake should have been released. John considered this to be an aggressive act on Gibson’s part and began countermeasures to return Finch’s hand to its rightful owner. Before Reese could break Gibson’s thumb, Finch himself laughed, blushed and to John’s bewilderment, Harold returned the handclasp.

Gibson and Finch stepped off the entrance. Shaw, Thompson and Franklin formed a perimeter around the two gentlemen. Wordlessly, still in a haze of disbelief, John completed the circle of protection. Shaw cut her eyes at John in irritation and confusion of her own. Reese didn’t even try to explain to her how bad this idea was. Of all the plans Reese had seen in his career, studied or even heard about, this was without a doubt up there with Little Bighorn as bad plans went.


	2. Sticky

Gibson was solicitous, courteous and obviously smitten with Harold. Finch was shy and retiring, often blushing or turning his head down. The public attention was not something Harold was used to or even wanted. Being a really private person, he must be completely out of his element. The whole situation was making John nauseous. Adrenaline and stress should not be sustained through an entire conversation on madeline cookies and memory loss. John was in 'protect Finch mode' with no outlet for his distress.

Here was Finch; _sweet, vulnerable Finch_ , being pawed and leered at by this sex fiend Gibson. No matter that a complete background check came up with no criminal record or any civil issues beyond lawsuits dealing with business, Reese was certain that Gibson was a sexual predator.

When Gibson put his hand on Harold's knee Reese had to restrain himself from breaking the man's arm. Finch noticed John's distress and excused himself to go to the restroom.

The club had spacious single rooms that were unisex and not only supplied a toilet and sink but a padded bench that could be used for recreational purposes. Reese sneered at the decadence but ushered Finch inside with him. He locked the door behind them both, turning off their earpieces.

John pressed Harold's back against the door and pushed his thigh in between Finch's legs. Finch looked startled at the invasion of his personal space but his neck would not allow him to glare up at Reese properly. With practiced ease, John bent at the knees to not only align their hips but also to softly kiss those thin, uneven lips.

Harold returned the kiss quickly then pulled away with disapproval. “Mr. Reese,” he said, a mere inch away from John's red lips. “We agreed to keep our professional life clear of any...personal entanglements.”

Reese rested his forehead against Harold's and sighed, “I know. Never while working, but I don't like this.”

Finch wormed his hands under John's jacket and ran them up the long back. “Professionally or personally?”

John's tension was ebbing out of his body now that Harold was safe and touching him. “Both actually.” Reese looked at Harold in the eyes, “Why did you come into the club? The plan was that one of us would try to flirt with Gibson and you would bug his apartment.”

“I tried. The electronics are sophisticated. I managed to get cameras on the roof and across the street but that building has higher security than the DOD." Finch quirked his lips.  "When I was finished, I tried to tell you but our earpieces were malfunctioning. I could hear you and Ms. Shaw but neither one of you could hear me. I needed one of you to accompany me when I asked Ms. Groves to help with surveillance. You both made me swear on the Encyclopedia Britannica that I would never use The Machine's connection to her without one of you present.”

“Okay, that explains why you entered the club but why did you allow Shaw to run with the Mr. Burd alias? That is a pretty clean alias.”

“Gibson's people would be checking my background. My other ID's would raise eyebrows. This one is better; lonely and rich with no history of relationships or headline making antics.”

John's jaw clenched and he looked away. Ashamed he was feeling this, but determined to keep nothing secret from his lover. “I don't like Gibson pawing at you.”

“He shook my hand that is all.”

“It feels like more.” Reese snapped then took a deep cleansing breath. “I know. I am a modern, mature and sophisticated man. I am not some lovesick teen or raging jealous buffoon, but..”

Harold examined John's profile intently. He saw the stress and the embarrassment. “Mr. Reese... _John_. You have every right to feel possessive towards me.”

John swallowed and closed his eyes. “It's just that, I have so few things I care about. I know I have no rights to you especially after I ditched you in November.”

Finch interrupted, “Mr. Reese, I vowed to be your spouse until death do us part on New Year's Eve 2012 , the fact that you needed to take a breather from the mission does not negate that arrangement.

John opened his eyes and looked at Finch. “It was our aliases.”

Harold did not so much as blink. “The sentiment and the commitment was genuine on my part.”

John smiled and softly said, “Mine too.”

Harold nodded. “So we have established that you are my husband and have every right to proclaim to this den of inequity that I belong to you. Every instinct in you is screaming to claim your mate.”

Harold pressed his own thigh against John's half full erection. “You are genetically programed to protect and mark your territory. The fact that you are a civilized and sophisticated gentleman does not take away these hereditary instincts. If we did not have to hide our relationship for fear of reprisals you would have an outlet for these urges. If I did not have to pretend to be interested in Mr. Gibson in order to save his life you would be allowed to hold my waist and stare down the one or two old men who might be interested in this middle aged cripple.”

John surged forward. “I trust you with my life and my heart. I know with every fiber of my being that you would never stray, never cheat, never so much as flirt with anyone else. I am not jealous of anyone else in that room. I know what I have." Reese swallowed hard with eyes intent on Harold. "I know how wonderful you are and how others will look upon you with desire. I know what longing for you is like. I know how lucky I am that you have had so many head injuries that you think I am worthy to love.”

Harold blinked, “John, I know you feel affection for me, but honestly we both know that you are the one that turns heads.”

Reese quickly kissed Finch to stop the words. After thoroughly mapping all of Harold's lush, wet mouth, John pulled back, his eyes boring into Harold's with fire and desire. “When we can, we need to take a vacation, some place balmy and safe. Some place where it is not dangerous to show our relationship. Someplace where you can wear a light, white linen suit with a ridiculously expensive and ugly Hawaiian shirt with the collar open to show all that sexy chest hair.”

Reese shimmied his hips from side to side. “We can go to the best clubs and I can get there first. I sit at our table waiting for you to enter. When you show up, I want to see everyone turn their heads.”

Finch was panting slightly and his cock was getting heavy next to John's thigh. “I want to watch as all the women see that not only are you handsome, virile, rich, intelligent and smooth but also that you are packing nine inches of fat, raw cock. I want to see their faces flush with arousal. I want to watch as they check their makeup and hair, adjust their breasts and recross their long legs, hoping to catch your interest. I want to watch as a third of the men get hard just thinking about sucking you.”

Harold's pupils were nearly eclipsing his blue irises they were so blown open as Reese continued. “I want to see the envy and the jealousy shine in the eyes of the men who realize that every available straight woman in the place is now wet for you. That every bi or gay man, closeted or not is trying to secretly adjust their hard rods for you.”

Reese nuzzled a side burn and whispered. “Then I want to walk over and take you by the waist. I want to guide you to our table by the small of your back. I will pull your chair out and seat you. I will kiss your cheek in obvious adoration, the love and happiness I have to hide in the city bursting from every pore. Then I will visibly adjust myself and sit down across from you, smug in the knowledge that everyone in that room is jealous of me and rightly so.”

Harold blinked and smiled, “I love you too, John. When this case is over, I will try my best to give you that vacation.”

They kissed once more and adjusted themselves for decency. Reluctantly, Reese became the cold professional again, turning their earpieces back on. He steeled himself against the rage and possessiveness that boiled just under the surface. They had a job to do.


	3. Automobile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possessive! Reese

The evening was torture to John. He knew that Harold was only acting, pretending to enjoy the attention from Gibson. This knowledge did nothing to abate the burn in his belly. The anger and the growl that tried to claw its way out of Reese's throat would not be assuaged with reason. Anytime John would get his blood to cool Gibson would  _touch_ Finch, a knee, an elbow, and then just as they were leaving for the night Gibson   **kissed**  Harold!

It was on the cheek and chaste, yet it not only surprised and embarrassed Finch into blushing but it left John seething. Reese contemplated going after Gibson to rip the man's lips off but some rationality was able to be peek through the haze of red Reese was seeing.

John barked at Shaw to get in the front seat of the limo they called. John knew that this limo had excellent sound and sight protection as well as anti-surveillance measure. It was Harold's private limousine with a loyal driver who rarely even blinked at the names, aliases or passengers Harold entertained. With Shaw up front, no one could hear or see Harold in the back of the car. Reese secured the vehicle with Finch safely inside.

Shaw was unhappy but obeying for once. She had never seen Reese this angry and volatile before. Even when wounded, bleeding out and desperate to catch Simmons, John remained cool and calm. This time, Reese looked manic, ready to kill. Something Shaw had never personally seen from Reese. It was a sexy look for him she had to admit.

Once Reese entered the backseat he told the driver to head to the safe house’s neighborhood but to take the long way that would add thirty minutes to their route. Then John closed the intercom, set the signal blockers and raised the privacy screen. No one, not even Shaw could call, hear, see, or spy on the pair.

John swiftly removed his jacket and threw it to the floor. Harold began to protest the abuse of such fine drapery, but instead let out only a squeak as John grabbed his knees, swinging them carefully over Reese’s head. Finch’s torso had no choice but to follow. John’s right hand caught Harold’s neck to gently yet quickly place Finch’s head on the seat, leaving the man sprawled in the back of the car.

Finch got his bearings, but was still confused as Reese began to unfasten the leather belt and bespoke trousers of Harold’s tuxedo. John had Harold’s cock out of the boxers and in his mouth so fast Finch was getting light headed. The blood rushed to Harold’s manhood, filling it completely in a matter of seconds. John’s mouth was warm and slick, the saliva provided enough lubrication to sink Harold’s length deep into John’s throat. Reese swallowed around the musky hardness, sucking the tender tissue to its maximum girth.

Finch’s arousal was pulsing from the abrupt sensations. His head was swimming. All Finch could think about was reaching his peak. John was usually so careful with Finch. Always gentle. Rarely did Reese manhandle Finch around the bedroom. However, tonight John had both hands under Harold’s ass and lifted Finch’s pelvis off the seat to pull the rigid flesh deeper inside himself.

Harold’s feet were uselessly kicking, trying to find purchase to thrust but John kept bobbing his head and sucking the very will out of Finch. Soon, Harold just gave up and let Reese pull and push him to a spectacular and surprisingly exhaustive orgasm.

Once Reese let go of Finch, John moved to hover over Harold’s face. He brought his own leaking, red, and swollen cock out of his pants and began to stroke himself vigorously. John’s right hand was placed on the back of the seat to allow Reese to look down on Harold’s pink and sweaty face that shined with afterglow.

John jerked at his cock with rough and furious strokes that looked painful. His face was red and his teeth were clenched, but his lips snarled open as if to bare his fangs to the world. Finch was beginning to think John was receiving very little pleasure by forcing his release.

Just as Harold started to struggle up to perhaps return the favor and mouth at the hot, long phallus in front of his eyes, John released the seat and took hold of Harold’s face. Reese gently, but steadily turned Harold’s face until the left cheek was inches away from the shiny, wet head of John’s purpling dick.

Reese made guttural noises and thundered out a bellow of raw animalistic victory as his semen gushed forth. Reese held firm to Harold’s face as searing ejaculate splashed over his glasses and left cheek- the exact cheek Gibson had kissed less than an hour ago.  John finally gasped and shuddered, shaking his shaft to fling the last droplets like water, sprinkling Harold’s face.

Once he was sure John was done, Finch sat up and removed his glasses and handkerchief. He silently cleaned off his spectacles and face, folding the cloth carefully to hide the mess, and refastened his belt and pants. John flopped down in the seat next to him. They both panted and sat in silence for several minutes.

Reese regained some of his senses and he was mortified. “Harold, I am so sorry. I ..”

Finch interrupted quietly. “John, we both enjoyed ourselves. No need to apologize for getting carried away with passion.”

John swallowed hard.“I should have made sure you were alright with what I wanted to do before I basically assaulted you.”

“Nonsense Mr. Reese.” Harold looked straight ahead. “I told you I was here for you and I understood your instincts.”

“I know, but I shouldn't treat you like some...” John couldn't even say it.

“You would never treat me in any manner that wasn't with utmost respect and love.” Harold's voice was whisper soft with affection and held the strong conviction of a man who only saw the good in Reese. “Rough sex is not an indication that you have contempt for me.”

Reese knew that intellectually, but inside John felt he had treated Finch like a common whore, intent on getting his rocks off and marking territory like an animal.

By the time they arrived, both men were presentable and buzzing with afterglow. Shaw secured the street and Reese assisted Harold out of the car some three streets away from their building. Shaw took one look at Finch and turned to ask Reese what happened to pink up Harold's face when she paused with her mouth open.

Reese looked like a contrite demon, hair slightly matted,sweaty face flushed with a combination of expressions ranging from satisfaction to smugness to shame. She decided to wait to interrogate the men once they arrived at the apartment.

The trio made their silent way to the building at Harold's pace. Shaw in front, Harold in the middle and Reese at the back close to Finch and to his left. The elevator held one male passenger who quickly scooted as far away from Finch as possible once he saw John's murderous expression.

The car arrived at their floor and Reese took Harold's elbow. Shaw opened the door to the apartment with Reese rushing them inside. Shaw stopped them with a touch to John's arm that had the man snapping his teeth at her. “Pardon my language but what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing!” Reese barked.

“Bullshit!” Shaw threw her purse at the couch. “You have been acting like someone stole your wildebeest all night. I want an explanation and I want it now.”

Finch raised a hand. “Ms. Shaw there is nothing to be concerned about.”

Harold took a step towards her and John put his arm around Harold, then stepped forward while pushing Harold farther away from her. John essentially placed himself between Finch and Shaw. The light came on behind Shaw's eyes. “Oh my god. I can not believe I never saw this. You and Finch are fucking.”

Harold tried to speak but was interrupted by Reese, “If you value your life Shaw you will drop this subject. You know nothing about our relationship and you need to keep your nose out of it.”

Unphased, she put her hands on her hips, “When your little arrangement endangers the mission it becomes my business.”

Something in John's expressions combined with Harold's placating hand on Reese's back trying to soothe caught Shaw's attention. “You’re in love with him aren't you Reese?” She sneered. “How stupid can you be falling for your information man?”

Finch tried to pull John back but the younger man was strong and indignant. “Perhaps if you appreciated true love and affection, Cole wouldn't have died broken hearted with unrequited love.”

Shaw threw the first punch which Reese blocked. She then swiped at John's legs causing Reese to tumble. He used his superior weight and momentum to pitch himself forward causing them both to topple to the ground. Reese landed on top and pinned Shaw down. She was kicking and clawing with abandon when they heard, “Bear! Bewaken!” then Reese's arm was being tugged none too gently away from Shaw by a canine mouth. Bear then began to wedge himself between the wrestlers all the while growling and snarling.

Once the agents realized that Bear was trying to break them up they both backed off immediately. Bear would protect Harold fiercely even from his other pack members. Neither Reese nor Shaw wanted to put Bear in a situation where the dog had to fight his pack mates to protect Finch.

Panting, both Reese and Shaw now glared openly at each other. It was Harold who spoke first though, “Sit down, all of you! NOW!”

Shaw flopped down onto the couch and Reese sat on the arm of the chair Finch decided to take. Bear stayed between Reese and Shaw, not trusting them to keep their distance.

Harold held his hands together under his chin. “As you have deduced Ms. Shaw, Mr. Reese and I are romantically involved. We legally married a year ago. This arrangement might be unorthodox for members of the agency but we are not the CIA or NSA. We are individuals who understand that our paths will lead to destruction very soon. As John and I have been together for over a year with no adverse effects one can conclude that this situation is working efficiently. You are a well trained agent who works with us closely yet you did not realize we were married or even involved until tonight.”

Shaw shrugged.“Right, but tonight's little pissing contest could have cost us the mission.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Reese was blindsided by Mr. Gibson's interest in me. We did not plan to have me involved with the honey pot side of the scheme at all. You have to understand that John was not prepared and so Mr. Gibson's attentions to me rubbed him the wrong way. Just as Bear is accustomed to protecting me even from you, so too is Mr. Reese unfamiliar with people being allowed to touch me. I am certain that even you Ms. Shaw saw how uncomfortable I was with the public display Mr. Gibson performed. If my discomfort was evident to you how much more so would it be apparent to John?”

Shaw again shrugged, but said nothing.

Finch continued. “Give him some time Ms. Shaw. He has to protect me as a partner, friend, intel source, and his husband. I believe given the sudden turn the mission has taken, Mr. Reese performed adequately.”

“You know that this is a bad idea, right?” She stood and loomed over the men while petting Bear's head.

Harold blinked at her the best he could. “Our track record shows that we are able to save The Numbers regardless.”

“Whatever.” Shaw sighed and went to her room with Bear following her.

Reese turned to Harold. “She has a point.”

“Nonsense.” Finch rose from the chair with John's help. “The worst that could happen is Gibson finds out then thinks I am screwing the help.” Reese snorted and Harold smiled. “Never mind that, we need to have a good night's sleep and plan to bug Mr. Gibson's apartment while I attend the theater with our Number.”

“Okay, just remember, I still don't like this.”

Finch looked at his lover. “The feelings are mutual Mr. Reese, I assure you.”

 


	4. Bowties are Cool

 

~*~

The next morning Harold was busy with Root trying to get a bug into Gibson's apartment. Irrelevant Numbers still came in and had to be worked without using The Machine's direct connection. However, Root could be used sparingly for surveillance issues. In other words, when not dealing with the Big Picture, Ms. Groves’ natural talents with technology and her intimate relationship with The Machine could be utilized without breaking the rules.

Reese and Shaw took turns following Gibson. Bear kept tabs on Root. By noon, Harold, Bear, and Root were certain that the only way to get a microphone into Gibson's building was to physically break in. Human security guards were easier to bypass than sophisticated software. The Machine had her rules and Harold refused to break them as he was the one to make them. The plan was to have Reese and Shaw attend the opening night on Broadway with Finch and Gibson. Root and The Machine would infiltrate the building, placing bugs where they could.

The Machine actually enjoyed playing spy in these domestic operations according to Ms. Groves. The Machine would not let anything happen to the team but she would also not give them too much information. Unfettered, all-access was reserved for Decima and Vigilance related operations.

That evening everyone was stunning in their evening wear. The ladies were brilliantly dazzling in black with sparkling presents from Finch. Shaw was a bit taken aback to learn that her diamond and onyx choker was a gift and would not need to be returned at the end of the mission. Root simply thanked Harold with a blush and a kiss to Harold’s cheek as she used the diamond and garnet brooch to secure her silk wrap. Oddly, Reese did not radiate any jealousy.

Shaw wondered about the disparity. Maybe Finch was gay with no interest in women at all so Reese felt secure. When asked, John slanted his eyes and pursed his lips in annoyance, as if Shaw were being dense.

 “Harold is gay but can become romantically attached to the right woman. Root is no where near the right woman.  She does however, have access to the greatest surveillance unknown to humanity. She has known about our relationship since before even we knew. She might not think I am worthy of Harold but she does understand that Finch won't stray. She has never tried to seduce him sexually not even when she kidnapped him and wanted access to The Machine. Also, you might have noticed that Root is enamored with The Machine. If anyone should be jealous of Root's attentions toward Harold it would be The Machine.”

The same limo and driver saw them all to the theater where they met Gibson with his own security. The performance was a new, modern take on Cupid and Psyche. Finch was interested in the production, Gibson was interested in Finch. John was captivated by the mental image of Gibson's head exploding from a sniper's shot to the temples. Thompson, Franklin, and Shaw had that practiced glazed look of well trained guards bored out of their minds.

Every few minutes Gibson would try some lame date move. The middle aged financial tycoon actually tried the pretend -to -yawn -and -move -your -arm -over maneuver. John clenched his jaw. He smirked and kept his gaze on the stage however, when Finch anticipated Gibson's move and leaned forward at the last second. Gibson's hand grazed Reese's shoulder but missed any part of Finch.

During the intermission, Finch went to the men’s room and Reese followed at a discrete pace. John checked the stalls, finding them partially occupied. Harold was ushered into a stall with no one next to it, but near a wall. John stood in front of the empty stall’s door to prevent anyone from entering. Finch looked puzzled at Reese. The men made eye contact making Reese raise an eyebrow to ask if anything was wrong. Harold simply frowned and shook his head, proceeding into his compartment.

Once the lights flickered to signal the end of intermission, the group once again found their seats. This time Shaw somehow was seated next to Harold. Reese had the aisle which was fine for security but now John couldn’t grab or glare at Gibson should the man get fresh.

Reese tried to get Shaw to switch or at least catch Harold’s eye, but neither one would turn their heads from the stage curtain. Thwarted, John slumped into his seat, trying to enjoy the extra leg room.

Using morse code on the arm of his chair, Reese asked Shaw for an update. She answered that Root was inside and had cameras everywhere but the bedroom. Reese tilted his head in confusion. Shaw tapped back, Faraday Caged room.

Gibson’s bedroom would not allow any electronic transmission in or out- weird. John assumed the man was leary of a sex tape leaking, ruining his companies and stock options. No matter, Root and The Machine had succeeded and soon this operation would be behind them.

Just as John was about to relax into the production’s soothing music, a motion to his left caught his eye. Gibson was rubbing the top Finch’s hand and Harold was allowing it! Neither man was looking at anything but the stage as they were playing handsies.

Eventually, Finch pulled his hand away and laughed, but it was not nearly as fast as he should have. Gibson needed at least a thumb broken or maybe John could ‘accidently’ kick him in the ‘nads’. Reese took a deep breath and remembered that Harold was undercover and couldn’t react to a touch from Gibson as if the man were Typhoid Mary.

Once the production was over, Gibson lingered at the cars. Reese was nearly bouncing with the urge to just grab Finch and leave. However, every time John thought about taking a step closer Shaw would turn the-stare-of-a-painful-and-humiliating-death at him. Reese weighed his desire to leave against his desire to remain fertile. John stayed still.

Just as things were finally wrapping up, Gibson laughed like a gigolo and patted Finch on the belly. Reese’s eyes bulged and his face turned red. Shaw opened the car door for Finch and kicked John in the shin- high heel point first.

The pain jolted Reese out of his stupor. John started to follow Gibson to kill the man, but Shaw yanked his arm nearly out of its socket and shoved Reese into the passenger seat of the limousine.  Before John could protest, the car was driving off at some speed. Reese tried the intercom and found only static. He turned to the driver to complain but the man said that Mr. Burd wanted privacy.

The way the guy said it made it seem that Harold and Shaw were up to something. John clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. Typical. Two men lock themselves in the back of a limo, lock the privacy screen and turn the intercom off: business meeting. A female bodyguard sits next to her male boss: sexual encounter. John contemplated elbowing the paunchy driver in the kidneys, but Finch was in the car and nothing, not even gender equality or upholding a partner’s honor could get Reese to endanger Harold.

Finally they arrived at their stop. Shaw said goodnight and Harold limped toward the Library. Reese kept at the shorter man’s side thinking about all the liberties Gibson took. Finch didn’t seem to think anything was wrong. Maybe Harold liked the attention. Maybe Gibson made another date. John wouldn’t know because he hadn’t paid attention!

What if...what if Gibson expects something. The next time could be considered a third date. That was the usual date for sleeping together. At least that was the rule when Reese was dating.  

Well, dating women. Men usually didn’t have a problem falling into bed within an hour of meeting someone. Hell, John remembered a few leaves where eye contact and a nod lead to hand jobs or blow jobs in the rest room.

John turned to look at his sweet Harold. Would Gibson expect to get lucky the next time he met Harold? The touch to the belly, was that an invite to sex? Dammit! What if Gibson wouldn’t take a no seriously? What if Gibson’s touch slithered past Finch’s belly to his groin?

John’s thoughts were causing his blood to boil. Fear for his lover, impotence from the situation, and watching another touch what was his was getting John overheated.

They reached the landing on autopilot. Bear greeted them, but Reese curtly sent the canine to his bed. Reese locked the gate, turned, grabbed Harold’s waist and opened Finch’s shirt, leaving the bowtie on, but dangling around Harold’s neck. John lowered the shirt and coat over the shoulders just to Harold’s elbows then Reese pushed Finch onto the computer table. This effectively trapped Harold’s arms in the coat with his own body weight holding him prisoner.

John unbuckled their belts simultaneously with each hand. He had their partial erections exposed in seconds. He was tall enough to lift Harold’s legs onto his shoulders while wrapping both their cocks in a large palm.

Harold had no control of his legs, arms, or even his torso. Reese could maneuver him however the man wished. With his right, John began to pump their cocks furiously using his own secretions to ease the way and get Harold’s up to speed. The left grabbed the tie to twist it just enough that Harold felt it like a collar. It was not uncomfortable, nor did the pull endanger Finch’s neck, but Harold was extremely aware of it. It was strangely arousing to have a sartorial version of a leash held securely by the frenzied Reese.

Once both men were completely hard, John released his own driving need to concentrate on Harold’s length. John’s long, sinewy fingers caressed every inch of Finch. The rhythm would be interrupted by Reese popping the head between his middle and index fingers to simulate entering a lover. Harold jerked and moaned each time, careful not to writhe or bend his back which might pull the tie tighter.

As John rotated his grip back and forth, up and down like a washing machine, he kept his gaze on Harold’s flushed face. Reese watched as his manual ministrations contorted his lover’s visage. John wanted to capture and remember each expression he wrenched from Finch.

As Harold reached his peak, both men were drenched in sweat. John leaned over to memorize the exact moment Harold tipped over the edge. A single drop of salty sweat trickled down that classical nose to splash against Harold’s furry and soft belly. A tingling sensation spread throughout Finch’s body from the hot burst, thus bringing him to climax.

With John speeding up, Harold huffed and puffed his way to a sparkling orgasm that had him whimpering and cooing.  Once Harold became too sensitive to bear anymore stimulation, John released the softening manhood to then use the come on his hand to lubricate his own straining arousal.

Reese placed his right knee on the table and spread Harold’s legs. This placed John’s cock over Finch’s belly. With grunts and gasps, Reese pulled at his leaking rod until it started to turn purple. Finally, after some struggle that looked painful to Finch, John threw his head back and once again bared his teeth, shooting streams of semen over Harold’s already wet stomach. It was as if John were trying to erase Gibson’s scent from the hairy belly.

Once the shockwaves of orgasm began to dissipate, Reese seemed to come back to himself. The guilt and contrition were clearly painted over his handsome features. Before he could even begin to apologize, Harold spoke, “Don’t! I am your husband, your help mate. What you need, I supply.”

John swallowed and carefully untangled his fist from the tie. “Yes, but I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t need _**this**_.”

Reese silently helped Harold clean up and redress. Once both men were suitable, Finch sat in his chair. “What we need, want, and desire as human beings can not be quantified or judged beyond one criteria- will it hurt another without their consent. Other than that, we can only negotiate our way through our own psyche and libido.”

John looked anywhere but at Harold. ‘“You didn’t consent and I could have hurt you.”

“I disagree.” Finch sharply said. “I consented by marrying you, then again by telling you I was game for whatever you needed. Finally, at no time did I struggle or say no.”

John said nothing so Harold offered, “If it would make you feel better we can have a safe word. However, I never once felt that a simple ‘no’ would not get you to stop should I have needed you to cease.”

“A safe word?” John’s mouth gaped open in a mixture of disbelief and slight disgust. “Like we are some weekend BDSM couple? Like this is becoming a routine? I shouldn’t be treating you like this! You deserve better.”

Finch pressed his lips together. After a moment he said,“If we received what we deserved, I would never have been allowed to have you at all.” He threw his hands in the air. “This is pointless. You have a need I can fulfill gladly. Recriminations and apologies have no place in this situation. Can we move on?”

Reese nodded obediently. “Whatever you say Harold.”

They left the Library silently. Reese lost in thought, Finch hoping John believed him.

 

~*~


	5. Courting

Gibson had meetings all day and into the night. This let Root and Finch review all the tapes as Shaw and Reese took turns following their Number. Once again, nothing and no one stood out as a source of danger, not even Gibson himself.

When Gibson went to bed, Root volunteered to monitor the building to let the agents sleep. The syrupy sweet manner in which she offered this olive branch did not sit well with Finch, but a night’s rest with his husband would be lovely.

At John’s loft silence reigned. Only briefly did Reese speak or even look at Finch. Even Bear was unsettled, needing reassurances every thirty minutes. John would briskly order the dog to bed. Harold finally got on the floor and petted the distraught canine.

John grumbled, “You shouldn't do that Finch. You’ll hurt your hip.”

Harold looked straight at Reese when he said, “A minor physical discomfort is nothing compared to giving a loved one what they need emotionally.”

At that John disappeared into the kitchen. Later, they ate in silence and prepared for bed without so much as a kiss.

The next few days followed this same pattern. Gibson was too busy for a date, Shaw and Reese followed during the day and Root observed at night. A new number came in once which Reese handled swiftly. Other than that brief excitement, routine was their catchphrase.

John actually asked one night if Harold would mind sleeping apart. Finch was taken aback and slightly hurt, rarely were they able to cohabitate during a case. For John to prefer to sleep alone was very unusual. Reese liked to have Finch near, at least he used to.

Finally, Gibson called to make a date with Harold Burd. John shifted in his seat then left the room as Harold talked about seeing a jazz concert. The conversation was quick and the date made.  Harold hung up the phone and called out, “We will be meeting him at the Sorbet Club at seven.”

Reese peeked his head out of the weapon’s room of the Library. “Fine. Would you tell Shaw? I’m working on a Sig Sauer.”

Harold sighed. John just finished a rifle less than twenty minutes ago, but he complied.

 

 

 

 

~*~

The concert was excellent. Everyone seemed to enjoy the sultry tones of the featured singer except Reese. He remained impassive the entire time. He was professional, cold, unmoved, and unmoving. Even Gibson remarked how stiff Reese was acting. Harold made some excuse over their cocktails.

When Gibson grabbed Harold’s knee, Burd allowed it with a smile. When Gibson kissed Harold on the cheek to say goodbye, Burd turned it into a real kiss, chastely on the lips. Harold tried to observe John’s reaction, but was met with a stoney face. It was as if Reese didn’t care. Harold blinked.

He turned to Gibson and whispered in his ear. Gibson grinned widely and nodded. Harold addressed the bodyguards. “Joseph has agreed to come over to my apartment to see my new acquisition. You have my address. Please follow us in Joseph’s limo. We’ll take mine alone.”

Gibson and Burd entered the Lincoln without looking to see if the order was followed. Their car sped off without so much as a wave goodbye to the four bodyguards.

Shaw turned to Reese, “You okay with this?”

Reese opened the passenger’s door to Gibson’s limousine, shrugged, then got in. In a neutral tone he answered, “Whatever the boss wants.”  With that he slammed the door.

Shaw and the other two climbed in the back. Reese said nothing on the way to Burd’s apartment. He kept the privacy screen up the whole time. Shaw couldn’t get a read on him at all.

 

 

 

~*~

The apartment for Burd was tasteful with books everywhere. The condo was in a upper middle class neighborhood with easy access to coffee houses and bookstores. Nothing too ostentatious about the place except for the books. They lined handmade shelves with glass security doors inlaid with ironwork: old world charm with state of the art new world security.

Harold and Gibson were chatting on the sofa over coffees laced with expensive and smooth scotch when their bodyguards arrived. Reese cooly reminded his boss that a sweep of the building and all the rooms was needed before Mr. Burd usually entered his home. Harold sniffed and turned back to Gibson with a flirtatious smile, essentially dismissing John.

For the next two hours Harold flirted outrageously. He allowed Gibson to snuggle him, even letting the man grab his ass. Time and time again Gibson would ask with heavy lidded eyes if he could see the bedroom, but Harold would demure or change the subject. All the while, Reese stood like a statue three feet away, staring at nothing. He looked like a Buckingham Palace guard or Secret Service agent for all the emotion he displayed. Nothing seemed to phase him.

Around midnight, Gibson sadly pulled away, claiming he had an early meeting.  Harold pouted, “Oh! You really have to go?”

Gibson stood and smiled down at the sight of a tipsy Harold acting childish, “Yes my pet. I must go, but...” Gibson leaned down and caressed a cheek rosy with alcohol. “I will try my best to get back to what we started.”

He pecked Harold’s lips once more and nodded to his bodyguards. All three guests left, leaving the room in an eerie silence.

Harold’s phone chirped, startling the man and then Root’s condescending tone blared throughout the room. “Getting cozy with our Number Harry? Isn’t that usually John’s job?” Her laugh ran up the spine of everyone in the room, leaving each unsettled.

Harold closed the line and sighed. “I suppose we head to bed and hope nothing happens under Ms. Groves’ watch.”

Reese finally came back to life. “Shaw, go home. Pick Bear up would ya?  I’ll get Mr. Burd tucked in for the night.”

Shaw looked from Reese to Harold then back again. She grimaced, but shrugged and left.  Harold tried to rise from the sofa but Reese came over and hauled Harold up bodily and none too gently.

Harold’s feet were barely on the ground. His neck only allowed him to meet John’s eyes briefly. What he saw there blazed a fire from the nape of his neck, down his back to explode in tingles of arousal at the base of his spine.

John crushed his lips to Harold’s. Strong and determined arms mashed their bodies together pushing the steel bar of John’s erection into Harold’s hip. John moved his mouth to capture every inch of Harold’s lips. He licked each corner, bit the thin top lip, and sucked hard on the crooked bottom.

Once Harold’s mouth was wet with John’s saliva, the taller man began to scrape his five o’clock shadow against each of Harold’s cheeks. It was as if Reese were trying to sandpaper off any evidence that Gibson had touched Finch.

With beard burn zinging through his nervous system, Harold barely registered John moving them over to the dining room.

Reese slammed Harold against the wall shared by the kitchen, reminding Finch of a hotel room long ago. Only this time Reese used one hand to cradle the back of Harold’s head. No pain or damage was done.

John furiously kissed Harold while simultaneously groping the smaller man. John clutched Harold close, pressing their torsos tightly together. Reese ran a possessive hand down to Harold’s waist, then over the swell of a well padded ass. John squeezed hard and snorted hot air out his nose. His nostrils flared and he made an animalistic growl. It was as if John were scenting his mate.

Finch tried to get some space between them to make sure Reese was alright. Harold pushed against John’s chest for some room and Reese wailed as if in pain. Apparently, John thought Harold was rejecting him. After that, Finch relaxed into the embrace and let Reese do as he pleased.

John quickly shoved off Harold's coat and tie, leaving them pooled on the floor. Harold's shirt was ripped out of his pants, unbuttoned, and tugged off violently. The undershirt was propelled up under his arms to allow John to tweak hairy nipples to a painful hardness.

Harold couldn't seem to catch his breath, John was everywhere. Reese traced every scar, brushed his fingers through all the luscious fur, mouthed at the stiff neck and slipped a hand down the back of Harold's boxers to feel the warm skin of his buttocks.

Once all of Harold's exposed skin was caressed and mauled, John became frustrated with the pants. Reese made an annoyed sound and tugged at the belt keeping him from his prize. The rich, Italian leather joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Harold's pants soon followed.

John quickly divested himself of coat and shirts leaving all that bronze, rippling muscle exposed to Harold's gaze., Finch barely had a chance to run an admiring hand over the tempting landscape before John manhandled them both over to the dining room table.

John pushed Harold belly down onto the cold mahogany. Harold’s hips and groin left dangling over the edge. The haze Harold was courting let through the sounds of Reese dropping his own pants. Soon the wiry curls surrounding  John’s hard, hot cock brushed against the valley between Harold’s buttocks.  The pulsing organ was searing and wet.

Reese humped madly against Harold’s ass, pushing and thrusting his  aching flesh harder and harder against the soft cushion of Harold’s rump. Each jarring motion knocked Finch against the table and jiggled his own neglected sex.

A high pitched whine and then a grunt preceded the removal of John’s libidinous presence from Finch’s back. Before Harold could formulate a plan however, cool, slick fingers were probing his hole. Harold let out a breathy ‘oh’ and relaxed onto the cool surface. John rarely allowed them to have penetrative sex. He worried it would aggravate Harold’s injuries.

Reese had the perfect hands to reach in and open Harold slowly. The long elegant fingers were of a marksmen who never missed his target. Harold loved anal play. He always felt naughty, excited, and oddly cherished when anyone handled him in this manner. He felt cared for, sensual, and an overriding sensation of abandonment. If someone were touching him so intimately they were to be trusted implicitly.

Harold rarely felt he could hand over control to anyone. To experience the freedom to consciously lose that control because someone is there to catch you was extraordinary and divine. Therefore, Harold reposed himself across the varnished wood with his arms supporting his head and let John have whatever John wanted.

Within about five minutes John seemed satisfied that Harold was stretched and aroused enough. Finch himself was a puddle of nerve endings and satisfaction. Reese pulled his fingers away, latched his clean hand to Harold’s waist, and lined up the head of his painfully distended cock to the slippery and gapping hole. The heat registered for Harold and he bore down to open his passage further and eagerly receive his lover.

John’s gland’s popped through with little resistance. The shaft eased in smoothly, lighting Harold’s need to an explosive rage. The long column was a perfect fit. The fat, engorged head pressing on Harold’s prostate just right. When John’s hipbones smacked against Harold’s ass, Reese groaned deep in his chest. A shudder rumbled through Finch and made his own cock twitch.

Both massive hands were around Harold’s waist, holding him fast. Keeping Finch in place, holding Harold down, John pulled his groin back for half his length then plunged back into the warmth and pressure awaiting him. A few more slow, agonizing thrusts allowed Reese to ensure that his lover was comfortable. John sped up and intensified his rut.

Over and over again Reese drove himself deep into Harold. Finch cried out, and arched his back to open himself further and accept  John completely. Each rhythmic push escalated the bliss for both men.  

The pumping caress had Harold seeing stars. He began to rock into the motion, seeking greater depths and a faster joining.

Occasionally, Reese would bury himself to the hilt and grind against Harold’s sopping wet hole, luxuriating in the pleasure of filling his mate.

As the cadence of their primal dance advanced to the point that both men were making urgent bleats and distressed moans, Harold’s breathing became choppy, interspersed with pleased sighs and demanding entreaties.

John’s hips were a blur. Smacks and slaps echoed around the room. The smell of sex permeated every pore and wafted around the pair in a cloud of hormones, heat, and sweat.

As the wave of lust was reaching its crescendo for Harold, John removed his left hand and cradled Harold’s straining staff in a viselike grip. Without changing or altering his rhythm, Reese squeezed and stroked Harold until an eruption of semen frothed over his hands and Harold’s loud bellow announced their activities to the neighbors.

As Harold was getting control of his ragged breathing, John once again secured Harold’s waist with powerful hands. Now Reese pounded into Harold with mindless abandon. The ruthless plundering, the ecstatic pumping, the chaotic frenzy grew higher and higher. Harold braced himself against the onslaught by gripping the table’s edge with white-knuckled fists.

Harold’s face was flushed, his body seizing and spasming as John hit his own crazed stride. With a triumphant bray, John Reese crashed into a harsh climax. The flood of seed sloshed against the tender walls, eliciting a shudder and bone rattling clench from Harold’s worshiped, claimed, and battered chamber.

John collapsed over Harold’s back, his labored breathing whispering across the short hair’s of Harold’s neck. Their bodies were rapidly cooling bringing clarity and regret. Harold could feel the very moment John’s reason and guilt reasserted itself. It was quickly followed by John pulling out and stepping away. At that moment, Finch couldn’t honestly say which left him emptier.

Harold turned, hesitant to see the recriminations and disgrace that would be written upon his lover. Before Harold could speak, the color drained from John’s face and he crumbled to the floor as if punched in the stomach. “Oh God, Harold. I…”

Harold turned over as best he could. John raised his head, his eyes bright with regret, then the tears fell. Harold went to reach for John but Reese cringed away and sobbed, “Don’t! I have to leave Finch, get as far away from you as I can. Oh God, what have I done?”

John swiped at his eyes savagely and leapt up. He gathered his clothes in a hurried fashion, intent on leaving at that very moment. Harold panicked and threw himself at Reese. “John! No!”

Reese caught the naked man. Pleading and sorrow were radiating from them both. “Finch, I practically raped you. I’m a monster!”

Finch refused to let go. John refused to hurt Harold to get away. They were at an impasse.

Finch swallowed. “No you didn’t. What happened here was consensual and by choice.” Harold licked his lips. “Furthermore, I knew this would happen and I facilitated it.”

Reese looked at Harold in confusion. “What?”

Finch shook with emotion. “I liked it! I wanted you to do it! That is why I flirted with Gibson!”

 

 

 

~ * ~

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um..yeah. So...
> 
> Don't worry, I'll fix it soon. Sorry for the delay in updating.


	6. Confessions

The room vibrated with the last echoes of Harold’s shocking confession. John shook his head in disbelief and asked, “What?”

Harold strengthened his hold on Reese. “We need to clean up, but I am afraid you’ll leave. Take a bath with me and I will explain.”

“Harold I...”

“You did not rape me. I have told you on more than three occasions that I consented to everything.”

“You tried to pull away.”

“I wasn’t pulling away, I was trying to make sure I wasn’t hurting you. You made a sound of protest, but you never tried to restrain me. I knew my actions tonight might have upset you and I needed to see your face to confirm for myself that you knew I would never cheat on you. John please. Take a bath with me. I will explain. I hate the idea of you leaving. If I can’t convince you then,” Harold swallowed hard and his eyes were bright with tears. “Then I will let you go.”

Reese looked at Harold, half naked with his shirt up, exposing his chest. The idea of Harold standing there, John’s semen seeping out of him had Reese flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. Finch wasn’t hurt, wasn’t appalled, and was in fact demanding that everything they had done was not only tolerated but wanted, coveted. The only thing that troubled John right at this moment was his own behavior and the idea that Harold planned this.

“Alright. We have a long hot bath and I make sure you are okay. But if I feel that I am a danger to you then I leave.”

Harold narrowed his eyes at Reese. “A compromise. If you still think I don’t want this in our relationship then you leave.” Reese shook his head but Harold continued, “John, you are overprotective of me. Even if I wanted everything we have ever done you will believe that leaving me would protect me from you and from myself.”

Knowing full well that this was true, John relented.“Okay. If I truly believe you want all this rough sex I will stay.”

John lead them to the large bathroom off the master bedroom. Harold would require a hot tub for therapy even after the most minor physical excursion. To that end, most if not all of Harold’s safe houses came with a jacuzzi or hot tub. Reese stripped Finch and unceremoniously inspected Harold’s hole.

Finch blushed all the way to the his chest and sputtered, “I am fine Mr. Reese!”

John smacked Harold on the butt, making a loud slapping sound bounce off the tiled walls. “Just making sure.”

They both got in the large tub with Reese on the bottom and Harold snug against John’s chest. John scrubbed Harold’s back and chest while Finch worked on John’s long, muscular legs. After the heat started to relax them both Harold sat back, sighed, and spoke, “I like being manhandled in bed, always have. I like intense love making. I prefer anal play and I relish being penetrated.”

Reese tried to speak but Harold turned to face him, placing his fingers on John’s lips. Finch spoke instead, “Unfortunately I am also attracted to men who think there must be something wrong for a man to like what I like. Nathan was just like you, remorseful after a session. It was as if I must be a sick pervert to like being held down and ravished.”

John and Harold made significant eye contact and John nodded. Harold removed his fingers then snuggled close to John’s side. Harold continued his tale, “So, I learned to hide it. Nathan thought I was either tolerating it or I was an abused partner who couldn’t see things the right way. After 9/11 he left me. He said he couldn’t be the cause of more violence in the world. I was devastated. I tried to be normal. I investigated Grace. Nathan approved of her. It would have been a normal relationship. I loved her, but that doesn’t mean that I was satisfied with our life together. I know you can’t agree, but I find no shame in wanting to be craved, in having a sexual partner who can’t control his longing for me. It makes me feel sexy,”

Harold swallowed hard,  but in a broken voice continued, “As pathetic as it is to say I really need to feel desirable now that I am so broken.”

Reese tightened his hold on his wet lover. Yes, John understood wanting to see your partner in bed waiting for you, anticipating your touch, wanton, aroused, hungry. Having physical proof that one was longed for by the one you desired is heady and beautiful. What would John do to get that precious acknowledgement from a lover? Many, many things.

John himself was a peacock; strutting and primping to get his lovers to lay back and invite him in. Harold prefered to be the one who benefited from the mating dance. It was essential for Harold to know that John would puff up his chest and protect his mate, that Reese would show in words and deeds how very much he wanted and needed Finch. It was important to Harold’s sexuality and self worth, yet all Finch’s past lovers called this a weakness. John could well imagine having to go without real satisfaction in bed and in relationships.

Reese cleared his throat, “Do you always need it?”

Harold looked up at John as best he could, “No. I can achieve climax without it, but there will always be a feeling of being slightly cheated or partially un-fulfilled.”

John’s eyes narrowed as he spoke, “So, this whole time you have been getting close to what you wanted but not completely?”

Harold sat up a little bit in urgency as he said, “Let me assure you that the pleasure I feel just being with you is enough. If we never again engage in vigorous love play then I will understand. I know you hate that side of yourself and you fear you are treating me inappropriately.”

John nodded, but explained, “Yeah, but if I am certain I am giving you what you want and.” He paused, looked a way, bit his lip in thought then continued in a low voice. “I like what we have done recently. I love it, being allowed to just have you, to sate my desire. It is raw and uncomplicated. I feel selfish because I love it so much. Never before, with any of my past lovers have I been allowed to just be me, to simply take and give as much as I want. With most people you still have to maintain a veneer of polite detachment. You don’t want to open yourself completely for fear that they will be uncomfortable or they just can’t match your intensity. But lately, with you.”

“I know John.” Harold nodded himself now. “I feel the same way. That is why I put on that show with our Number tonight. I craved another complete joining. The last few days have been a misery. Like the old song says, ‘a taste of honey is worse than none at all’. I couldn’t bear to go on without having had such a meaningful exchange earlier now that I knew what we could be together. I almost couldn’t bear the thought of never being touched in passion again. I had to have it. Even if this were the last time. I’m sorry you got upset about it,  but I am not sorry for feeling you inside me, wanting me, needing me. It is the most alive I have felt in over a decade.”

Reese pulled Harold close and covered his lips. John sucked Finch’s tongue into his open mouth. Harold moaned and John bobbed his head, thrusting Harold’s tongue deeper inside John’s mouth. Finally, Reese pulled away. “For me too Finch, but we should finish this case without me either fucking you on Gibson’s bed or castrating the bastard.”

Harold laughed, “Alright. If the danger doesn’t present itself on the next date then we assume are presence has thwarted the ne’er-do-wells.”

Reese stared at Finch. “You are so Victorian in the streets but pretty freaky in the sheets.”

“Really, Mr. Reese.” Finch sputtered.

Reese stood up then pulled Harold up with him. He dried Finch off and made sure all of Harold was dry. “Just get on your phone and schedule another date with that douche so we can go on vacation.” John leaned down after Finch was covered in a fluffy robe. He kissed Finch lovingly, but briefly. “What I have planned for you might be illegal in the continental US.”

With that, John turned Finch around, swatted his ass to get him moving then John started to dry himself off.  Both Reese and Finch would have to make plans for the ending of this case. John couldn’t wait.

  
  
  



	7. Concerns

Harold wasn’t his usual flirty self with Gibson that night. He seemed distracted and uninterested. Oddly, this made Gibson even more ardent, as if he liked a challenge. This observation made Shaw growl and Reese side eye their Number all night with a lip curl he just couldn’t tame. It really became off putting when Harold had to insist that they stay in their own seats. The man wanted Harold to sit in his lap in the middle of a crowd. It was laughable and sort of creepy. Gibson had always been drawn to Finch and responded amorously to Harold’s flirting. However, when Finch said he didn’t feel well and kept his distance, Gibson become relentless.

Harold was looking forward to the end of the night so they could move on to another Number. Trying to bring this case to a close swiftly so he and John could regroup, Harold agreed to go back to Joseph’s apartment to look at a lithograph. It was another teenaged and amateurish move, but it would get this show on the road so to speak..

The security in Gibson’s building was high tech and efficient, but cold and impersonal. It gave the entire complex an eerie, lifeless quality. This continued into Gibson’s personal living quarters. Every room felt cold, isolated, and disconnected. Nothing personal, cozy, or even comfortable was in sight. It looked like a concept for a magazine spread that people admired, but understood that no human would actually live there. The only exception of course was the bedroom where the lithograph was housed in a locked case that was showered by soft yellow light. This room was lush with fabrics and woods of exotic origins that promised succor to the weary and delights unheralded for those interested in the large round bed surrounded by heavy velvet curtains.

It all looked desperate and overrated. Harold had to cover his face in a pretend sneeze to hide his grimace of distaste. So much lavish production had to be used to compensate for a lack in other areas for Joseph Gibson. Essentially, the furnishings were there to seduce, impress, and enable because obviously the man himself couldn’t rise to the occasion.

Tacky was the word Shaw would use. Typical was Reese’s smug thought.

Reluctantly, Harold stepped into the bedroom to see the lithograph. Behind him, Gibson closed the bedroom’s double doors, leaving all four bodyguards in the ante room. The doors clicked shut then several mechanical clicks and beeps could be heard. The doors were being sealed electronically. Harold turned to see the set up and sighed. They were sophisticated and would require a few minutes to override, but Finch was confident that he could open them if he needed to leave.

Meanwhile, in the ante room all communication was lost. Reese and Shaw rushed the bedroom doors. The other bodyguards tried to stop them, leering and reassuring them, “The boss just likes privacy.”

Reese scowled, “No way is Harold alright with this.”

Franklin spoke up, irritated. “Look man, our boss does this; finds a squirrely little geek who is just gasping for a good screw.”

Reese lunged for the man’s throat, but Shaw intervened. She pulled Reese back. Then she grabbed the bodyguard’s tie and yanked the lug down to face her. “You might not know this, but Harold hasn’t needed to look for a good screw in quite a while.” She cocked her head provocatively and pointed her chin at Reese. Then she met the guard’s eyes and wiggled her eyebrows.

Franklin laughed nervously, “What? Both of you?”

Shaw dropped her eyes in false shyness so the guard continued, “Then why is he dating our boss?”

Shaw released him and sauntered over to lean against Reese. John circled her waist possessively with one arm and glared at the guards. Shaw purred, “Sometimes we like to play with new toys. Sometimes Harold is too much for us, but Harold never strays. It is one for all and all for one if you catch my drift.” They all understood that Shaw was implying that Gibson was only allowed to date Harold so that Reese and Shaw could join their lover in bed. “Now, we need to join the party, so how do we open this door?”

Each guard looked aroused, but confused. Thompson shrugged and Franklin said, “We don’t. The doors are electronically sealed from the inside. Boss likes his dates to be private and secure. No sound or signals can penetrate the walls or windows. The doors are sealed and require a thumb print from our boss to get in.”

Reese was now angry. “Why the hell would he have all that?”

The guards looked nervously at each other. John and Shaw were now at the end of their patience. Shaw punched Franklin in the throat, making the man double over. She then double fist punched him behind his head that was now at her chest level. This pushed him flat to the ground. Shaw straddle the enormous man, placing a knee on his lower back. Before he could regain the upper hand, she twisted his right arm behind his back, coming very close to breaking the arm. Her left hand held his left wrist to the floor with all her weight. Franklin couldn’t kick her with her knee in his back. He couldn’t grab or punch her with either arm. He could barely lift his head enough to breath more than carpet fibers. He was exactly where Shaw wanted him.

Reese of course caught Thompson across the nose with a fist as the guard was going to Franklin’s aid. It was child’s play to take out the man’s knee with a kick, bringing him to the ground effortlessly. John zip tied his hands then stood over him like Captain Morgan.

Shaw demanded of her capture, “Why does Gibson have his bedroom configured like the pentagon?”

Franklin grunted but remained uncooperative so Shaw yanked hard on the captured arm. Franklin wailed in pain then said, “Okay! Okay! Gibson likes to make sure his little geek boys can’t run away.”

She twisted his thumb mercilessly and asked, “Why?”

“Sometimes, sometimes what the boss wants is too much. The little nerds don’t want to go that far. The boss likes them to try to fight him, to try and get away. He prefers it actually.”

Shaw’s shocked and worried eyes met Reese’s gaze with dread. The primal scream that John was keeping inside was powerful enough to contort his face in fury. John bellowed and hit Thompson across the temple with the butt of his gun, knocking him out cold. Reese arose in one smooth move as he replaced the gun into the waistband of his slacks at his back. He went to the doors and tried to kick them open.

Shaw quickly tied and gagged Franklin. She did the same to the unconscious Thompson. Once both stupid muscle were secured Shaw kicked off her heels and went to stop Reese.

“John!” She grabbed him around the waist in an effort to prevent him from breaking his foot on the doors. “They’re only painted to look like wood. It’s actually twelve inches of thick steel.”

John tried to struggle, but he wouldn’t hurt Shaw so he stopped. He voice was fierce and nothing more than a husky rumple. “I have to get in there, Sam.”

She let go of John. “I know, but we can’t do that through brawn we need to use our brain. Maybe Root can …”

Shaw never completed her sentence as shattering glass was heard followed by a muffled gunshot.

Reese’s eyes flashed like lightning. He pushed Shaw away, went over to the window. John yanked down the drapes and knocked every pane out. Once the glass was thrown away, he used a table to remove all the frames. The window was now just a gaping hole. John leaned out and sure enough, the master bedroom had a balcony. He stood up and began to weave a rope from the drapes. He looked at Shaw, “What around here can support my weight?”

Shaw instantly knew Reese planned to swing out the penthouse window, dangling sixty stories over Manhattan to hopefully reach the balcony. She shook her head. “I weigh half of what you do. Let me.”

Reese barked, ‘No! I have to get in there now!”

The determination coupled with the desperation in every fiber of John’s being made the decision for them: Reese had to get in there or die trying.

Shaw nodded then tested the bookcase by the window. It was stainless steel and bolted not only to the wall studs but the floor and ceiling as well. It would hold; hopefully. Together, they got all the drapes in the apartment into a suitable rope about twenty feet long. It was secured to the bookcase with precision. They tied the other end around John’s waist. Reese stepped onto the ledge.

He gripped the makeshift harness tight and calculated how he needed to repel over to the balcony. He looked back into the room at Shaw.

They gazed at each other in silence. Shaw dipped her chin sharply, unspoken understanding flashing between the two. She would pick up the pieces if John failed. With one last deep breath, Reese jumped and began his swing into the darkness.

  
  
  
  
  



	8. Conclusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of consent issues & past rapes

John tried to spring across the building with as much strength as his legs could generate. The wind was bitingly cold, the air crisp, the skyline breath taking, the height terrifying. Reese caught the ledge of the balcony with his right hand, the stone work rammed into his hip. He managed to get a foot wedged between two spokes. His free leg swung over to allow John to sit on the balcony railing. He untied the curtains and secured them to the posts in case they were needed for their escape. John pulled out his gun and carefully, silently stepped into the bedroom. Fear for Harold nearly paralyzed Reese when he saw a third unknown man in the room. John raised his weapon and prepared to fire, praying he wasn't too late.

 

 

~ * ~ 

Harold was starting to become physically ill from such close proximity to Gibson and his sleazy one liners. The childish and repulsive seduction was wearing thin on Finch’s nerves. This case could not end soon enough for Harold. Finally, Harold had enough and asked to leave. That was when Gibson turned mean. He grabbed Harold around the waist and hauled the shorter man to his side.

Gibson leaned over Harold with a snarl and said, “Listen little mouse, you were wanting my bed just the other day. I haven’t been spending all this time and money on you for your sparkling personality. We are going to fuck tonight whether you have a headache or not.”

Harold’s eyes widen in momentary fear, but soon became calculating slits. Remembering John’s training, Finch poked Gibson in the eye as hard as he could. Gibson released Harold and bent over, cradling his injured face. The window pane where Gibsons head had been just a moment ago shattered into pieces. Gibson scrambled away blindly, but Harold looked in the corner of the room. Standing there, holding a firearm was a man who could have been Harold’s younger, but shorter brother. The man seemed scared out of his wits and the gun went off again. This time the bullet met its target. Gibson howled in pain, grabbed his arm and fell to the floor. The intruder took a step closer, intent on finishing the job. Harold had to do something.

Finch raised his arms to show he was unarmed. He limped over to position himself between the gunman and Gibson. “Listen to me! You do not want to become a murderer. Not for this degenerate. Please, give me the gun. My associates and I will see to it that you receive justice. I give you my word”

The stranger’s mouth quivered and his eyes were wild with fear and pain. “You don’t know what he did. He..”

Soothingly and with great care in his tone Harold said, “He forced himself on you, he hurt you.”

The gunman’s eyes teared up and he nodded his head. “I agreed to, to some of it. I wanted his attention, but he got rough and….”

Seeing how distraught the young man was Harold picked up the narrative, “And when you protested and said ‘No’ he over powered you.”

The gunman nodded sadly so Harold continued, “That is rape and not your fault.”

“I said yes though.”

Harold changed tactics. “What is your name?”

“Harrison, Harrison Turnkey.”

“Well Harrison, you said yes to sex, but you have a right to say no at anytime. Give me that gun and we will sit down together to figure out a way to bring this man to justice. If he was willing to do that to you and me then he has more victims out there who need to know that Joseph Gibson will never hurt anyone ever again.”

Harrison looked like a child who had been separated from his parents only to find them again. He whispered, “Okay.”

Harrison handed the gun to Harold. Gibson tried to stand. “Thanks Harry. Now I’ll call my guards to beat this piece of crap to a pulp.”

Finch turned the gun on Gibson. “No, what is going to happen now is Harrison will take these zip ties from my pocket and tie your hands behind your back. Then my guards are going to help us to ensure you never hurt another living soul again.”

 

~ * ~

Reese was about to shoot when he heard a familiar and much loved voice command, “Mr. Reese please don’t fire. The situation is under control and I am unharmed.”

That voice slithered down John’s nervous system and unlocked every clenched muscle, soothed every aching vertebrae and eased the burning fear in his belly. Reese walked over in the direction of that voice.

He found Gibson bleeding on the floor, gagged, and tied. Harold was sitting on the bed tinkering with a remote control. Beside Harold was a gun. Reese picked up the weapon and nodded to the stranger in the corner of the room. The man was like a caged, wounded, and defeated rabbit. Harold spoke distractedly as his full attention was on the control in his hand. “That is Harrison. He tried to kill Mr.Gibson because Joseph likes to hurt his lovers. Gibson prefers a struggle and protest to foreplay.”

John stiffened, he needed to check Harold now!

Sensing this, Finch never looked up from his work, but he did whisper soothingly, “He only grabbed me for a moment. His left eye will need to be checked by Ms. Shaw to see if my index finger caused any permanent damage.”

John’s satisfaction and happiness at both Harold’s cunning and well being fizzed like seltzer bubbles down his spine as Harold closed the remote then pointed it at the doors which opened slowly.

Once the light was out of John’s face, Reese noticed how similar this Harrison looked. If Finch were shorter and closer to John’s age he would have looked like this man. However, Harold’s own steely personality was missing from this stranger. The man was a Harold Finch that could not fight back and so had given up. The contrast was night and day. John’s Harold would never give up, would never lose hope, and certainly would not allow evil to reign. This fanciful thought oddly comforted John. His Harold was strong. His Harold needed no white knight to save him. What his Harold needed was a partner, not a keeper.  Harrison had neither an ally nor a partner. He had trusted Gibson and Gibson had betrayed Harrison in the most savage manner. Reese’s own protective instincts were now extending to Harrison. Gibson would do wonderfully in a Mexico prison.

~*~

Joseph Gibson made the front page of The New York Times. His empire was in ruins and the man himself was no where to be found. Some speculated that he had killed himself in disgrace. A hand full of people knew differently.  One of those people turned to his lover and spoke, “I hope Mr. Reese that I do not have to explain to you the difference between what Gibson did and what we do.”

John smirked and sat on the table in front of Harold. “No Finch. I see the difference. We have mutual respect and we both agree to what happens. What we do is for the mutual pleasure of our partner not to over power or humiliate. If you were not alright with something I did you would tell me and I would stop.”

Harold nodded slowly but asked, “What changed your mind?”

Reese slithered to his knees in one graceful movement that placed his waist between Harold’s knees. In a smoky, low voice he said, “I remembered that you are a genius. If you don’t think I am capable of being a monster then I trust your judgment even over my own.”

Finch smiled like a devil and leaned close to whisper, “An excellent policy Mr. Reese.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!  
> Thank you for all your support with this difficult fic!


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